


Many coloured flames of romance

by Alex-writes-about-life (Alexwritesaboutlife)



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Cute, F/M, Flustered, Future kisses, M/M, No More Resets (Undertale), Other, Sans Remembers Resets, Undertale Saves and Resets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-27
Updated: 2016-07-10
Packaged: 2018-07-18 15:52:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7321330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alexwritesaboutlife/pseuds/Alex-writes-about-life
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Meant to be part of a series but could potentially stand as a one-shot. Let me know which you prefer! Crikey! I didn't mean for this to be so long! Welp, too late now!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this is a bunch of Grillby headcanons and basically there's not enough love for him! I hope you enjoy and let me know if you want to see more! This is a bit different to my typical writing style! Personally I think it's trash but I hope you enjoy!

To say that he had met anyone else like you would be a lie. You were…special. He’d say something cheesy, like he knew it from the moment you walked in. It wasn’t true of course, your meeting was nothing like that. There was no indication the two of you were meant to be. SOULS may have been real, but even Sans who could read them in more detail than most couldn’t see a link between SOULS. But that’s the kind of man he was. He was a romantic. You, on the other hand, were real. You were the most realistic person he had ever met. 

The first day you met, it had been tipping it down. The skies had opened on a whim, unpredicted by the meteorologists and many people had come scattering into the bar, dripping in water. Even the memory of it made him wince. People were soaked to the skin and sought shelter in his bar, famed for being warm, and for its limited but quality menu. He’d been mopping up water for days, a tedious task for anyone else and a potentially dangerous one for him. 

Then you’d come in. You, in your black jacket, with umbrella extended towards the heavens. You, with your brisk, business-like attitude. Merely muttering a “Knew it was gonna rain.” Before shaking off the soaked fabric and depositing it in the umbrella stand. It was the only one there and stood triumphantly upright. You unbuttoned the jacket and hung it carefully on the peg, rain having saturated it and marking it with dark spots. You dusted off your trousers and took a seat at the bar. They had fared little better, the front of the covered in dark splatters like little bullets had exploded upon impact. There was a small shine of light on the pen you had tucked between your skull and your ear. He later learnt you kept it there for convenience and to keep your rampant hair away from you face, a mission which often went unrewarded.

He approached you to take your order and you watched him, almost warily, but with a sense of fascination. Like a scientist studying an insect, you seemed unsure but curious as to how he would act. It wasn’t dramatic, there was no love at first sight. You would have loved that, he speculated. You loved anything dramatic and cliché, despite being the very opposite of it. You were a human, like any other he’d seen, and yet so different. You seemed to be very observant, examining the intricate details of the bar before turning to face the menu. Your careful nature reminded him fleetingly of Sans, although his friends attention to people was an innate instinct born of his role as Judge.

Softly, he spoke, a rich voice with a vague crackle to it, as one might expect from a fire elemental, but definitely male. A pleasant sound, with a formal articulate ring to it. 

“Welcome to Grillby’s. May I take your order?” You tilted you head, like a bird on one side, and he couldn’t quite decide whether it was the menu on the wall you were examining or him, your eyes seeming as though they might be examining his SOUL, holding him immobile under your gaze. For a second too long to be reading the brief menu your eyes lingered, tracing over something, as though trying to ingrain it into your memory.  
Then you smiled. It changed your whole face when you did that. The critical arch to your eyebrows softened and your eyes tightened, the amusement dancing in them, making them shine. The edges of your mouth curled up, exposing a row of even teeth, your cupid’s bow flattened out and a dimple graced the side of your cheek. Grillby found himself thanking the stars he didn’t have a mouth like yours, working through muscles and skin, otherwise he was sure it would be hanging open.  
You were gorgeous. He had never met a human he found attractive. He knew others did, of course. There were plenty of monster-human relationships in the area. But he’d never seen the attraction. But you. You were stunning and it took him so much by surprise, he felt his flames grow a little, as the monster equivalent to a small blush tainted him.  
Taking a deep breath and clearing his throat he prepared to speak again, to apologise for staring, when a light crimson bloomed in your cheeks. 

“Oh! I’m so sorry! I was lost in my own thoughts. I’ll have an order of fries please.” As you spoke, Grillby found himself transfixed by your mouth. The dramatic changes in your lips, from your slightly asymmetrical smile to the tighter circular shape which enunciated the O sounds, and the brief appearance of a soft pink tongue between your teeth, as you articulated your order. 

You finished the order with another smile, the skin around your eyes creasing and you looked to him with a hopeful expression. Your voice was soft, and not the sharp annoyed tone he had associated with you when he first saw you. But then, he had never been a very good judge of character. It simply wasn’t his department. 

To his embarrassment he found the only response he was capable of giving you was a rather curt nod, not because you irritated him, but because every assumption he made about you had only turned out to be contradicted by you in one way or another. 

Whilst his body seemed to be screaming at him to run to the fire door, where no one could follow him, to hide his flustered face, to be able to compose himself, he instead quelled the panic of his SOUL to the best that he could, and let out a rather shaky “One moment, please.” 

He then turned and stiffly but composedly and fluidly walked out of the bar to the door, passing through it easily. His apartment was located back here. This was his sanctuary, the place he could go if he needed to escape. Arguably you had done nothing to warrant such a reaction from him, and in truth he couldn’t quite explain it, even now. But something had happened out there, some revelation. Whilst it wasn’t earth shattering it took him abruptly out of his comfort zone, and into the realm of panic. 

He didn’t get far before he collapsed, critically analysing his actions and the impression you must have been left with. Then he swallowed and began to calm himself. He could not have a breakdown now, he had a job to do and other obligations. Groaning internally he pushed his glasses up and set to work on your order.

The only people who could get him here were other fire elementals, who all knew of Grillby’s rather awkward nature, and Sans, who could quite often be the need for him to be in here. Luckily Sans was very good at knowing Grillby’s limits, never pushing the teasing too far, and good at changing track if the other monster clearly needed time to ‘cool down’ as he so eloquently put it. Grillby couldn’t help however, but thank the stars that Sans had not been there to witness that rather awkward encounter. He had a lingering fear in the back of his mind that the other monster would find out anyway, but for the moment he let it rest.

There had been an important meeting of monsters that day, all boss monsters and Frisk the ambassador had been called to a meeting with the government. As Grillby understood from Sans’ explanation it was to do with expanding monster rights, and so Toriel was very insistent on Sans’ presence, believing it was necessary he be present to tell them if there might be ulterior motives to the proposed laws. He had also mentioned something about timelines, a phrase which occasionally passed between Sans and Frisk but nobody else ever seemed to know about. Grillby had always decided it was better not to press the issue, as there were certain topics Sans made clear he did not like to discuss.

Initially Grillby had been somewhat hurt by this revelation, until he discovered it was part of the cause of his friends depression, after a night of heavy drinking. After consoling Sans that night he made it a rule to avoid ever bringing it up. The unspoken pact between the two still stood solidly.

Meanwhile, you had been sat at the bar, rather oblivious to what had just happened but aware that the tone of the fire monster had changed from the calm one he had been using a few moments prior. Going over your actions in your head and trying to think if you could have done anything which might have been reasonable grounds for being offended, you had concluded it must be something else which had happened, as you didn’t think it was obvious you had been staring at him and not the menu behind him. 

You couldn’t deny, for a man with no technically physical features he was very hot. Ha! That was funny, and you snorted to yourself quietly. There was a sharpness to his features, to his jawline, to his nose, chin, and his cheekbones, which you couldn’t help but admire, standing in such stark contrast to your own rather soft features. The startling prominence of an Adam’s apple protruding from his throat confirmed your suspicion that he was male. You hadn’t meant to stare. Well, you had, but not for so long.

But why had he looked so…distressed? Possibly he had had a bad day, or received some unsavoury news. Or maybe he had noticed your staring.

Whatever the case, you couldn’t help the slight twinge to your heart at the rather anxious way the monster had headed for the door at the end of the bar. Pushing some hair back from your face you steeled yourself in determination. When the monster came back you were going to try your best to cheer him up. 

After all, if it was your fault, then you needed to try to make amends, and no one deserved to be sad, and if he needed to laugh you would make him. Alternatively maybe he just needed someone to talk to. You couldn’t deny you were curious about his mouth. When he spoke, his head angled towards the ground, and whilst you could see the movement of his mouth you couldn’t see how it worked, or even how it looked inside. When he wasn’t speaking it seemed to disappear back into the multitude of flames that made up his face, and it didn’t appear to open very wide. It was almost as though he was purposely angling his face to avoid letting you look at him.

It had been about 20 minutes since the monster left. You felt somewhat uneasy, as though someone might be staring at you, but dismissed the feeling. Tapping you fingers along the polished wooden bar you debated retrieving your stuff and leaving. It wasn’t raining anymore and the patrons of the bar were starting to disperse back outside. You had resolved that this might be a good escape plan, if the monster took too much longer to return when you felt something large, warm and soft pat you on the shoulder.  
Turning on the bar stool to face whatever it was, you were met by a large white dog. Their paw hovered in the air, as though they weren’t expecting you to turn quite so quickly. 

Your eyes were wide and your mouth was slightly open in surprise. Quickly retracting their paw, they offered you a rather sheepish smile. To their left there was a smaller dog, both of them seemingly joined at the paw. You raised an eyebrow and waited for enlightenment. 

“Ah, sorry. I’m Dogamy and this is Dogaressa.” They both had massive ears, whiter than snow, which drooped to their shoulders and looked like they contained more fluff than some of the fanfiction you read. Both appeared to be wearing massive black hooded jumpers, and a pair of jeans, with a hole in the denim at the back to allow their plush tails to spill out. The male dog who had initially addressed was slightly taller, his shoulders slightly broader and his stance was straighter. He also had a small curl of white fur on the top of his head. The female dog was tucked into the crevice of the males shoulder. She had wider hips than him as well as a slimmer waist, and stood with one side leaning into him, her paw peeking round his side as she held his waist.

You smiled at them, albeit hesitantly, wondering why they were talking to you and a little uncomfortable with the delay in your food making it rude to turn away, as you had nothing else to focus you own attention on, besides the two in front of you. Still, you retained your uncomfortable smile and averted your gaze from meeting their eyes by focusing on the huge white paws poking out from under their jeans.

Sensing your inherent unease Dogamy spoke again. “Sorry, I’ll get to the point. Our friend Doggo, wanted to ask what you did to make Grillby so embarrassed. He can’t see very well so he missed the exchange, and we were – distracted.” He stretched the arm that wasn’t resting on Dogaressa’s shoulders to point out a shorter but bulkier canine in the corner, only a short distance away. Huh, so Grillby must be the name of the fire elemental, and consequentially the owner.

He appeared to be permanently squinting and a pair of rimless glasses were perched on his muzzle. Two white patches of fur above his eyes seemed to be acting as eyebrows and were furrowed, the dog facing in your general direction but his eyes seemed to glance over you as though you weren’t there. Half of a dog treat seemed to be hanging from his mouth and one end looked slightly singed, and a faint white trail of smoke seemed to be curling from it. His arms were crossed and the spiked collar around his neck appeared to be very statement inducing. What exactly that statement was supposed to be, you weren’t sure.

“Can he hear me? You inquired curiously, but not entirely certain of whom you were hoping to evoke an answer, your gaze never wavering from the curious creature in the corner. You supposed afterwards it was a redundant question. Just because a person cannot see does not mean they can’t hear. As you spoke his ears twitched, alert and erect. He adjusted the position of his head to look properly in the vicinity of which you sat, although he still wasn’t focused on you. 

“Yes I can. I’m not blind either. If you moved I could see you. I can only see moving things.” He spoke, and the words which might otherwise sound contemptuous, appeared merely informative, despite the curl to his lip which seemed to be less out of disgust and more of a habit, as though the monster had realised your words were spoken out of genuine curiosity. As he spoke, he revealed a row of teeth, all canines crowned with sharp tips, with four slightly longer protruding ones positioned at the traditional human location of the canines. There was a faint shine when he talked and the dim bar lighting caught the saliva coating his tongue.  
His yellowish eyes narrowed vaguely at you. “I couldn’t see you, but I could see Grillby. His flames must have risen by about two inches. And he looked pretty flustered. More flustered than I’ve seen him look in a long time.” You prepared to apologise, to explain and explain you didn't know what happened at the tone of his voice. It sent inexplicable shivers through you, and was deep with a feral undertone.  
When you moved your hand to flick a stray stand of hair from your peripheral his eyes fixed on you and he grinned wolfishly. It still made you shiver but in a more pleasant way. 

You couldn't deny Doggo was attractive, in an odd way. He slammed his hands down on the table and stood up, leaning across the table, almost entirely in your face. "And no one loves to tease Grillby as much as me, except maybe Sans. So spill. What did you do?" His tone was lighter now, with a small tone of amusement ringing through it. Dogaressa and  
Dogamy also appeared to be looking at you with something akin to interest behind their eyes. You decided not to question the introduction of an unknown party into the equation as you were already confused enough.

"I'm uh, really sorry, but I don't think I know? I don't think it was me...all I did was order some food.” You managed a rather stuttered reply to the attractive monster who was currently invading your personal space. None of the three monsters looked convinced or satisfied by your response but were prevented from pressing the issue further by the timely arrival of your food.

You were alerted to it by a soft throaty cough, with an underlying hum to it, and all three canines flicking their eyes to a figure behind you and then abruptly away again. Turning back to the bar, you saw the aforementioned Grillby standing with a plate of fries in his hand, looking rather apologetic and to a lesser degree, nervous. Raising a hand to your mouth you anxiously bit your lip as you looked up at him from under your lashes and fringe which had curled slightly due to the rain.  
Grillby lifted one hand to his collar as though to loosen it, but dropped it before it got there and cleared his throat again, speaking softly, as you tried to see his mouth in action. 

Due to the flickering light coming from Grillby himself and the speed of his mouth moving you were unable to make any astute observations about his mouth, other than the inside of it was a pale yellow. His eyes on the other hand were fairly easy to see, bright spots of light dancing within rather large eyes behind his thin glasses. 

“I’m sorry about the delay with your food, there was a technical difficulty with the grill. Please, as an apology, they’re on the house today.” The fire elemental indicated the door he had previously entered with his free left hand. You smiled up at him, head tilted to one side to angle your view of him and hands clasped together on the top of the bar. 

“That’s so nice of you! Thank you Grillby!” The elemental seemed to almost flinch when you said his name. Whilst you merely saying his name in a casual manner has long since lost quite that dramatic effect you still had a way of saying certain words which could arouse great emotions in him, his name being one that frequently topped the list.  
Flushing the bartender went to place the plate on the top of the bar, murmuring a hushed “It’s no problem,” when you simultaneously reached upwards to take the plate from him. 

Your fingers brushed his hand on the plate and he nearly withdrew as though he had been burned. He managed to maintain some semblance of dignity however and merely gently released the plate once he was assured it was safely within your own grip. You set the plate down gently on the bar with a soft clatter. You reached over and began to pick out fries delicately with your fingers, disregarding the cutlery gleaming sliver next to you. 

Your fingers were slim, soft and smooth. They weren’t calloused like some humans had, but that didn’t mean they weren’t strong or skilled. The colour consistent from your wrist to the rounded tips of every individual digit. He appreciated that, your consistency. His skin was always flickering, always changing from one shade to another. They usually represented his emotions, something he resented as it marked him as easy to read. He would always be glad you didn’t know how to read him and his skin then like you do now, or he’s sure you would have mocked him nonstop for the mush of emotions you reduced him to that day. He watched as, like a delicate system of clockwork, your muscles and tendons operated your fingers. As your knuckles rose and sank with the motions of your hands. As your skin pulled taut and smooth over the organization of bone.  
Grillby’s fingers were interesting. They were thicker than yours and longer. They didn’t feel like human fingers either. There seemed to be far less resistance to them, almost gelatinous in texture. There was also a continual warmth radiating from them as with all of him. You admired their strength despite lacking bones, muscles and tendons. You admired the faint throbbing glow of his magic you could sometimes see if you looked hard enough, pulsating beneath the changing surface. 

His flames were always changing, transfixing you. You lost count of how often you would find yourself staring at a part of him, captivated by the ever changing beauty of him. It always embarrassed him, he hated being stared at, but he eventually got used to it. You were glad. It was a part of who you were and you always thought beautiful things deserved to be appreciated, and you chose to appreciate them by looking at them. You usually memorised things this way, but you couldn’t memorise Grillby, as by nature he was ever changing. Your father had once told you that that was the one true way to appreciate something was to give it your time and devoted attention, and you found Grillby to be the one thing that you could devote everything to. Besides you could never help the thought that Grillby deserved as much love as this world could give him. Plus it made him flustered and that was adorable. 

Following a rather flustered apology, with assurance from you that it was fine, and a casual dismissal of the incident, Grillby picked up a glass and began to wipe it clean. There were no new patrons to serve and so he busied himself, but found his attention drawn back to you again. He marvelled at your ability to keep so composed and then pondered if maybe his own nature was causing him to worry far too much about the incident. Your head was bent over a book, one he was fairly sure you hadn’t been reading earlier. It was entitled “Teach your dog Quantum Physics.” A small half smile of bemusement played on your face as you used your thumb to turn the page, and with your free hand you picked free another fry which you placed between the edges of your teeth. Deftly you used gravity to aid you, tilting your head back to seize the food properly between your teeth and offering him full view of your neck and jaw. He almost dropped the glass he was cleaning in shock. 

Your jaw was harshest next to your ear, but softened almost immediately, reaching your chin in a slimmer rounded shape. The side of your neck stood bare and open, the perfect place to grab, and bite and suck. The perfect place to please you. The angle of your head exposed the tendons in your neck, standing taut against your skin, and creating a hollow near the dip between your clavicles, and muscles standing tauter as the protrusion dipped beneath the collar of your top and travelled along your skin towards your shoulders. He could even see the exposed ridges of your oesophagus against the surface of your skin, swelling as you swallowed and falling back into place as you lowered your head. 

Breaking quickly out of his trace Grillby made eye-contact with you briefly causing him to flush brightly. As if the thoughts and desires he had just had about you by looking at your neck weren’t bad enough, he’d been caught in the act by you. Thankfully you didn’t seem to notice, your ability of being horribly perceptive and then ridiculously oblivious working in his favour for once. He swallowed, his mouth unbearably dry as he clocked the nauseous tingling in the bottom of his stomach of fear and desire. He retreated carefully to the fire door, disappearing through it quickly. 

You were aware of his absence as the glass he had been intently cleaning stood on the sideboard, and the cloth he had been utilising was pooled on the floor. Behind you Doggo chuckled. You turned quickly to face him. His dog treat was almost completely ashes now, a small wisp of smoke indicating it was lit. His shoulders were shaking lightly and his eyes seemed to dance with amusement. Dogaressa and Dogamy also seemed somewhat bemused by the events. Doggo lowered his hand of cards to look at you, or the vague area he knew you were in.

“I don’t know what you’re doing to him but it sure seems to be working. His face was priceless! Hey, do me a favour and try flirting with him next time?” He asked hopefully. 

You rubbed the back of your neck awkwardly with your free hand. “I can’t do that! I don’t even know how!” You protested, fire igniting in your cheeks at the suggestion, although you couldn’t deny a slight curiosity in how he might react. And it could be a good tactic to break the ice. 

Doggo sniggered and leaned his torso towards you, a half smirk playing down one side of his jaw. “That’s the easy part. Ol’ Grillby is pretty easy to tease. If you know any pickup lines those will work. Besides, you can’t deny he is pretty hot.” He winked a furry eyelid at you and your eyes widened and you span back to the bar, mortified. 

You heard the laughing from behind you and your cheeks flamed as you brought your book closer to your face and focused on the ink laced pages. Calming yourself slightly you smoothed out the pages with your fingers and wiped the dampness of sweat from their surface. 

You only noticed Grillby’s return based on the slight warmth humming through the air and the faint crackle in the air. Glancing up from your book you found your eyes meeting Grillby’s clothed midriff. Tracing up with your eyes you reached his face, hand nervously scratching the side of his neck. 

An idea struck you and your eyes flickered between him and your book for a second before settling on his form, a mischievous smile twisting your lips. Hoping Doggo was listening you called out “Hey, hot stuff, you come here often?” He looked up at you, startled from the glass he had resumed cleaning after fluidly scooping the cloth from the floor where it had resided. Once he registered your words his eyes widened and he tightened his grip on the glass. His Adam’s apple bobbed gently as he swallowed and placed the glass on the shelf below the bar and approached you, hesitant and nervous, a tight smile on his face.  
Indicating your now empty plate, he asked “Can I get you anything else?” 

You turned and grinned directly at him, in an almost scary fashion, with so much enthusiasm, your eyes dancing with amusement. You swept your hair away from your head with one hand and tilted your onto one side, fluttering your eyelashes excessively to emphasise the joking nature of your flirting. “How about your number?” You asked, leaning forward over the bar. 

Grillby froze, your words registering. He was stiff for so long you almost waved your hand in front of his face to see if he was conscious. His jaw was hanging open slightly and his eyes were huge, rounded in surprise. The pale yellow light from his mouth contrasting slightly with the darker orange of his external flame. Then slowly, a light red crept up his face, like mercury creeping up a thermometer. It reached the top of his flames and they suddenly erupted, growing almost 3 feet before the fire elemental crumpled to the floor. 

There was a pause and you stared, shocked at the place behind the bar where he had disappeared. Then you heard a loud howl of laughter from behind you, and a heavy paw thumped you on the back. Your head whipped to the side in shock and you saw Doggo standing next to you, using one paw to wipe his eyes which were watering, almost doubled over in laughter. 

“Oh, God! That’s the best I’ve seen in a long time! Wait till Sans hears about this! Hahaha!” He snorted, gently slapping the counter before hugging you in delight. You felt your torso being crushed against him and gasped slightly.

“Ah! Air!” You yelped out, causing him to release you, rubbing his head apologetically. 

“Ah, sorry! It’s just, that’s the best reaction I’ve seen from Grillby since the Ketchup Incident. You’re a natural at this-err- sorry, what was your name?” He asked sheepishly.

“Oh, it’s Y/N, but uh….is he going to be okay?” You indicated Grillby’s dazed form on the floor, being fanned gently by Dogaressa. 

He dismissed your question with a wave of his paw. “Aw, he’ll be fine! Thanks for doing that by the way, his expression was HILARIOUS! You’re obviously a natural flirt eh?”  
You flushed with embarrassment. “Uh, it’s no problem. I guess it’s easier to flirt if the guys are genuinely attractive.” You giggled and Doggo gave you a suggestive look. You shoved his shoulder lightly. 

“I’ve only spoken three sentences two him!” 

“That doesn’t mean anything!” You rolled your eyes at him. 

“Whatever. As long as you’re sure he’s going to be okay I’ve got to get going. You know how much the fries would be?” He shook his head, and indicated a receipt next to your plate.

Digging your hand into the scratchy denim of your trousers you retrieved your wallet. You forked out the required amount, depositing the shiny coins on the bar, along with a little extra for his trouble. Then an idea struck you and you retrieved the pen from your ear, signing a little note at the bottom of the receipt, before retrieving your jacket over one arm and your now dry umbrella from the bucket beside the door. Then, you waved a goodbye to the dog monsters and flickered your eyes briefly over Grillby’s form, briefly making eye contact with him, as he had just come round. You dropped him a quick wink before stealing out the door.

Grillby was stunned by your wink, but less so than your flirting, recovering on the floor, Dogaressa's muzzle obscuring his sight. Over the top it may have been but it was still super effective. He managed to pull himself back to the bar, after waving off the two dogs, insisting he was fine and collecting your money from the counter, heart fluttering slightly at the considerate gesture of leaving a tip, not something he often got from human customers.  
He was about to file the receipt away, when a series of dark letters caught his eye. 

‘Hey hot stuff. 

Since I didn’t get your number, here’s mine. 

Maybe after your nap you could drop me a text. 

XXX-XXX-XXX

Y/N’

You were going to be the death of him. He couldn’t help the faint smile that played over his lips as he read your note, a slight tingle in his SOUL and an even warmer sensation in his ordinarily hot cheeks. He would definitely take you up on your offer.


	2. Sans?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was really meant to be a Grillby X Reader thing but Sans always needs love too! So this is a short chapter on Sans, and his input. Hope you enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wonder if you guys will agree with my interpretation of Chara and Frisk? Let me know if you want to see other characters make an appearance. Submissions and asks are now open http://alex-thinks-about-life.tumblr.com/ on tumblr, or even open just to chat!!  
> http://ko-fi.com/A75744K- Buy me a coffee? It’s super useful to me, and helps me to write faster for you guys!!

Sans had been looking forward to this moment. It was always the best moment of every timeline. He had severely regretted that the government had chosen to meet with the monster community that week, as it meant he was going to miss your initial meeting with Grillby. 

There was no coherency among the timelines when it came to you. You were always different and you always met them in a different way. Once you had been in an alleyway and it had started to rain. You had found Grillby stuck under a sheltered area, which was steadily shrinking, and had offered him your umbrella as cover. The two of you had ended up stuck in a storm, sharing a dry spot together. Once you had been a street artist and drawn Grillby after seeing him in the street. Once was when you had been a musician in a band in Muffet’s café. His current favourite, however, was when he had met the version of you that was an astrophysicist. He had had a lot of interesting discussions with that instance of you. 

Sometimes the two of you met naturally. Sometimes one of the others had to give the two of you a helping hand. Sometimes the timeline reset before you met. Sometimes you were in a relationship when the two of you initially met. But you always confessed to each other. It usually took a while. Grillby’s shy nature and your somewhat oblivious nature were frustrating on more than one occasion. 

Initially, seeing one of his best friends so undeniably happy and infatuated sent happy vibes all throughout his SOUL. After having gone through several timelines of it, though, 

Sans thought it might dull the impact on him. He thought the repetitive nature of the social interaction on the surface would become tedious. That he would somehow blame you for Grillby’s regression into a quiet recluse when they inevitably returned to the underground. He even tried to distance himself from you. Avoiding all conversations and interactions with you, so he could blame you. And so, when Grillby regressed into his shell, he could be angry at you. But he couldn’t. No matter how hard he tried. In much a similar fashion to the way he couldn’t be angry at Frisk. Every reset he thought he would be angry. But he wasn’t. He was other things. Bitter, afraid, jealous but mostly he was just tired. Everything became numb and tedious. That’s why he enjoyed pranking so much. They put a small twist in how people would react. 

He felt the same for you. You were different to everyone else. No matter the timeline, you had a different career. You had different hair lengths, different hair colours (usually obtained artificially), a different clothing style but your SOUL was always the same. It was always the same friendly, fun and excited person. He always loved the initial meeting. Pranking you for the first time and you drawing Grillby out of himself in a way Sans never could, even if he himself applied your technique to the fiery bartender back Underground. It made all three of you feel younger, less world weary. You were a living contradiction, kind but stern, nerdy but somehow cool with it, and more sophisticated than he could ever hope to be. A complex character, unlike Sans who was undeniably simple. He'd mentioned this to you once and you had merely scoffed, remarking Sans was the most complex person you had ever met, hiding pain behind layers of diversions. You really were quite perceptive.

So when the skeleton walked into the bar and saw Grillby happily humming to himself, blissfully unaware of his presence, he grinned to himself. It was innately obvious he had missed Grillby’s first encounter with you but he was sure he could coax out the details from either you or Grillby. You weren’t the best at hiding things but you were very good at keeping secrets if you knew there would be serious consequences upon sharing the information.

He knew this after the one timeline he had told you about timelines, deciding on a whim that it didn’t matter. No matter what happened: Frisk was going to reset. It was the same timeline that you had been a physicist. You had spent a long time theorising with him on why Frisk did what they did. You’d also spent a long time comforting him. You’d taken him to see the stars for the first time with your new telescope from work. He’d really enjoyed that timeline. You and Grillby hadn’t been as close that time. He couldn’t help hoping you might have liked him a little, even if it was subconsciously. He also couldn’t deny he’d developed a small crush on you after that but he didn’t dare encroach on Grillby’s happiness.

The happiness of everyone else had to come first. For, even if it was fleeting, they at least could enjoy it without looking over their shoulders. His own happiness was so inconceivably contrived at this point, he had no idea what it would take for him to genuinely achieve it. He didn’t hold much hope for this timeline. The previous one had been a genocide. Before he had killed them, Frisk had been apologising in a puddle of their own tears, promising they wouldn’t reset again. If it was the first time he had heard that spiel it might have struck a chord with Sans. 

Unfortunately, at that point he was so used to being their plaything, he was merely feeling a stinging disappointment that they wouldn’t give him answers to their motives. Heck, he wasn’t even disappointed at them but because of his own failure to solve them, even with the psychology books you and he had poured over before. His first guesses at why they reset proved to be wrong. He had no idea what motivated them by this point. He only fought to slow the time to the next reset down, in hopes that he would get to see you before it happened. He didn’t know why he tried. He had never obtained a timeline where he managed to get his happy ending with you but seeing you always made him feel better. The constant variable that was you against the predictability of the rest of the timeline. 

He let out a small, resigned sigh. Being around you made him want to fight Grillby for you, for your attention and Frisk not to reset. It made him want to not be lazy. Or at least, not as lazy. He would never forgive himself for the Fatal Timeline. The first one after developing his crush on you. You had died. It was the most earth shattering experience because even though he knew you’d be back in the next timeline; he didn’t get to see you. He didn’t get to see your slightly asymmetrical smile, or the way your nose wrinkled as you laughed at one of his bad jokes. He didn’t get to see the shine in your eyes when you were enthusiastic about something, or the little dimples that formed at the corners of your cheeks when you smiled. Even after seeing his friends and family fall in the Underground over and over he couldn’t handle your death. For some reason, your glassy, blank eyes gazing towards the sky, lying in a pool of your own blood as it seeped through your shirt was worse than anything his mind had so far conjured. The slick noise of the knife the mugger had used, and the sickening squelch, followed by a clatter as he dropped it to the ground. He'd tried to save you, but by the time he had reached you, even with his powers it had been too late. You were gone. It replayed in his mind over and over, your cold immobile corpse, broken on the ground. The knowledge you would never get your happy ending in this time because you were in the wrong place at the wrong time. His thick, salty tears mixing with your blood caused by the knowledge you wouldn’t be buried like you deserved because your family had disowned you after your friendship with monsters began. He could only be grateful for the fact Grillby had not met you in that timeline. He remained the quiet, stoic character he had always been without you. They didn’t do that every timeline but in the ones they did you were slightly sadder, not bitter but melancholy. You were angry but at the ignorance of humans. 

Thankfully there hadn’t yet been a timeline where a full war had erupted between Humans and Monsters. Frisk, for all their flaws, was a very good diplomat. It was one of the factors that prevented him from killing them when they fell, regardless of the route they intended. That and his promise to Toriel. Also Papyrus would never forgive him. The young skeleton didn’t have much experience with death and Sans didn’t want to expose him to more of it than was necessary. He knew Asgore and Undyne might understand his actions to a degree, but they could never truly appreciate the conflicting happiness and terror he felt when he saw Frisk. Would he have to watch his brother die, over and over again? Or would this be one of the rare timelines where they didn’t kill anyone and he got to see you again? It was usually the first. The only person who could even come close to comprehending what he went through was Flowey. And his memory was always wiped with the true resets. Sans didn’t think Frisk had figured out yet that true resets didn’t affect him. 

He didn’t intend to share that knowledge with them either. Maybe one day they would slip up and tell him something which would allow him to unravel the monstrous deeds they did. 

He knew Frisk was not one entity. They were not two entities either, as such. He knew Frisk’s appearance in the Underground had awoken Chara’s soul. He knew it was far easier to try and separate them into Frisk in the pacifist run and Chara in the Genocide. But that simply wasn’t the case. From the moment Frisk completed their first genocide run and gave Chara their soul the two had been inseparable. They weren’t two beings, more like two halves of one being. Two halves which could not be separated into good and evil, but just Chara and Frisk. 

Chara seemed to be the more passionate side. Hot with emotion, anger, passion, revenge. They didn’t care who it was targeted at, they just wanted to release their resent and hatred, and usually the dominant force in the Genocide route. Frisk in contrast was cool, calm, collected. They were the voice of reason. They directed Chara’s anger, from unbridled rage into a deadly weapon. They were determined to see their end goal, regardless of what it was, or what they had to do to get there. 

They were a deadly combination; which Sans couldn’t understand. The last timeline they had promised, in a puddle of their own blood that this would be it. The last reset. Their tears mingled with the blood and they seemed so genuine Sans wanted to believe them. But Sans couldn’t bring himself to believe them, much less hope for so much. They had promised such things before, only to turn around and sting him with the harsh reality of the lying nature that came with being a ruthless murderer. He had cast his eye over their sobbing form, and coldly ended their misery, a few bones nailing the child’s corpse to the ground. 

Sans didn’t think he was without compassion. Even after killing them so many times, it still hurt to end Frisk, even knowing they would be back in the next reset. He had once thought they were friends, that there was some remanence of a person trying to do the right thing in there. After so many resets he stopped believing that. It still made him laugh though. A bitter laugh. Sans. Without. Without hope. And that’s what he was. Even you couldn’t change that. You would be no match for Frisk. He had been trying to reason with them for years, years of the same routine, over and over. He thought, hoped, that they would grow tired of it. It didn’t make sense to him. Did Frisk get bored with their life on the surface? But then why did they reset? People might not remember them, but they still acted the same way, said the same things. How could they get bored of the ever-changing surface but not of the same routine in the underground? 

Being the Judge was hard. One was born every lifetime. A monster with the ability to read people. He supposed it was vaguely comparable to the Oracle of Ancient Greek mythology. He was no Seer however. He couldn’t see the future, and he couldn’t see how time would be affected by the actions of an individual. He could however, see time and space. It was like a shimmery fabric which he could see the pathways through, like electric markers. This naturally enabled him to use these pathways to travel faster through the world. He liked to call them shortcuts. He could also use the residual magic in the air to strengthen his own. He never had a lack of magic due to this ability. But since monster mental health and HP were inexplicably linked the pressure of dealing with Frisk lowered his HP to a measly 1. 

He hated it, he really did. He could remember once, when he used to have an abundance of HP, similar to Pap. He wished they didn’t have such a sick fascination with him, with testing his limits, both mentally and physically. Now he was forced to dodge every move they made. He knew he could never dodge forever. But he also knew they couldn’t dodge him forever. That one day they would slip up and he would realise why they played this awful game. They were now 6 months into the surface. This was not the furthest they had made it, that was around 3 years, but it was a luxury he was indulging in. It wasn’t the shortest amount of time he had 

He sighed and shook himself from his thoughts, focusing on the thick scent of the ketchup bottle which had appeared in front of him at some point, and the hum of Grillby’s happiness, his vocalisation and magic mixing together mellifluously. He watched as the slender black box on the bar glowed softly, notifying Grillby that he had a text. He hastily grabbed the phone, whisking it out from under Sans’ watchful eye. He was too late, and Sans had already seen what it said, the words ‘Hey, Hotstuff, you there?’ standing out from the harsh white screen. 

He cocked a brow at Grillby, who promptly flushed brightly, flames growing a few inches, and greenish tint blessing his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. 

“Really Grillby? Aren’t you the player lately?” 

“N-no! Sans it’s not like that!” The elemental protested. “They’re just…really nice and cute!”

“Oh I bet.” He chuckled, causing the elemental to cover his face with a squeak. 

“Stop it. “He mumbled from behind his hands. 

Sans laughed softly, enjoying probing Grillby. He had missed this part of the resets. Too bad it probably wouldn’t last long. He found his mind drifting back to you. What would you be like this time? He couldn’t wait to find out. Would he even be here long enough to meet you? He hoped so. 

He couldn’t wait to see you again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm debating between two ideas. Either a polyamorous between the three of them, or an actual competitive love between Sans and Grillby. Let me know in the comments which you'd prefer, or if you even want to see more of this work!!

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed it! Come chat or suggest ideas at http://alex-thinks-about-life.tumblr.com/ I'm lonely :P Asks and submissions are now open too!


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